


Sweet, Sweet Ruse

by Leela, moodwriter



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We should totally do something about that,” Tommy whispers in Adam’s ear, nodding toward the chair where Ashley is sitting with her legs curled up under her. Neil’s perched on the arm, talking with Terrance, and acting like he isn’t aware of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet, Sweet Ruse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaidenBedlam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaidenBedlam/gifts).



> **Beta** : @aislinntlc
> 
>  **A/N** : Written for @MaidenBedlam, because she encouraged us to write something together and we needed to prove to ourselves that we could.

Neil’s an idiot.

That’s been the mantra for most of Adam’s life, but honestly, Neil can be a complete blockheaded idiot. Especially when it comes to women who like him. Or men, for that matter, because Adam used to be totally jealous of the way that Neil always seemed to get the guys Adam wanted, without even trying or caring. 

It wouldn’t matter so much if Neil’s obliviousness wasn’t stealing the smile from Ashley’s face. 

Adam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. If only he could stop watching them, but it’s like bad train wreck theater. 

“What do you think, Adam?” Ashley’s looking over at him, obviously expecting him to have been paying attention to what they were saying, instead of how they were saying it. 

Wanting to stall for time, he reaches blindly for the closest drink and takes a sip. His nose wrinkles at the unexpected burn down his throat. Tommy’s drinking cheap whiskey again, and that’s the last thing Adam really wants after a concert. 

Before he’s forced to admit that he hasn’t a clue what they were talking about Neil says, “I don’t dance to this kind of music.”

“Yes, you do.” Adam grins at him. “Or do you want me to remind you about that night when you…”

“Fine,” Neil interrupts Adam. “You keep on being an asshole, and I’ll dance.” He turns around on one heel and stalks off to the tiny dance floor, without sparing a glance for Ashley.

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Why do I even…?” Then she follows Neil, pushing her way through the crowd between the VIP area of the club and the dance floor. Her hips sway to the music as she walks. 

Adam sips more of Tommy’s drink and watches them dance. They’re inches apart, but not touching. Neil’s hand occasionally hovers near Ashley’s hip, before he pulls it back as if his palm were burned. Ashley is like a temptress, occasionally stepping closer, circling Neil, shaking her ass, and drawing attention from every guy and half the women around her. 

“He’s an idiot,” Adam mutters under his breath.

“Who is?” Tommy leans over the back of the couch and reaches over Adam’s shoulder. Adam doesn’t resist when Tommy takes his glass back.

“Neil. Who else?”

“What’s he done this time?”

“Nothing.” Adam flails one hand in the direction of the dance floor and grabs the glass back from Tommy with the other. “That’s the whole problem. Not a damn thing. Almost everyone else on the dance floor is eyefucking Ashley, and Neil won’t even touch her. And he’s the one dancing with her.”

“Seriously?”

The glass is halfway to Adam’s mouth when Tommy tries to steal it back. Tommy’s fingers are warm and strong, and they send a shiver through Adam. He tightens his grip, almost reflexively. “I was drinking that.”

“It’s my JB, dude. Don’t even try it. Just give it up and no one will get hurt.”

Adam locks his arm, uses his strength and his better angle to bring the glass to his lips. It’s slow-going, pulling against Tommy’s efforts to stop him, but eventually he’s tipping the glass up and draining what’s left in it. The burn of the whiskey going down is nothing compared to the heat of Tommy’s hand against his skin.

“Fucker,” Tommy says, half-laughing even as he’s scolding Adam. “Just for that, you’re buying me a new one. Three fingers this time.”

Adam laughs and signals the waiter. A glance over at the dancers shows that Neil and Ashley are still circling around each other like the hapless couple they ought to be. 

“We should do something about that.” Tommy settles on the couch, close enough to Adam that he’s only a few inches away from snuggling under his arm. “Get the two of them to actually see what’s right beneath their noses. They’d make a great pair. Totally be up into each other’s shit.”

“And everyone else’s.” Adam pulls a face. 

“They do that anyway.”

“True.”

They stop talking when the waiter comes over, all too aware of how little it takes for someone to overhear and report back to the fans about what they’re saying. Before the waiter’s even finished putting their drinks on the table, a guy comes over with his cellphone and wants to take a shitty camera pic with Adam. Adam curves his lips into a smile and lets the guy, whose name is apparently Gil, slide an arm around his waist.

By the time Tommy’s taken that picture, and then another with Gil and his girlfriend, the music’s changed to something soft and slow, and Ashley, Neil, Brian, Terrance, and the others are back from the dance floor. 

“I’m serious. We should totally do something about them,” Tommy whispers in Adam’s ear, nodding toward the chair where Ashley is sitting with her legs curled up under her. Neil’s perched on the arm, talking with Terrance, and acting like he isn’t aware of her.

“Yeah.” Adam smiles. They should, and not just because Adam loves showing everyone how much of an idiot Neil can be. 

*

Tommy wants to plan the whole Neil-Ashley thing properly because love takes no commands and his friends deserve something better than half-assed preparations.

So he sits on Adam’s bed at the back of the tour bus, waiting for the boss man, his legs curled under him. He’s maybe a little too excited considering how stupid this whole thing is. But god, those two will never find their way to each other on their own. 

Adam should be back already, but it’s possible the interviewers want to suck Adam dry, and Tommy just has to wait. He fidgets, touching everything Adam has close to his bed: a tea mug, a book, two notebooks, Adam’s iPad, and then he goes through the drawers of the bedside table because he’s a creeper. 

There’s lube and then he finds a dildo too. Of course he does. 

Tommy snorts, shoving them back into the safety of the drawer, definitely not wondering when Adam last used them, or if he’s used them on himself or someone else. 

Tommy’s mind is a dirty place. He ignores it. 

Then he starts fiddling with the iPad. He knows Adam’s code because Adam has no sense of privacy when it comes to his friends. He clicks through some of the porn Adam has saved, then plays Candy Crush. He really hates all those stupid games because they suck his time. Today, he’s just glad he has somewhere to put all his extra time. 

Everyone else went out. He’s the only one in the bus. And that thought makes his dick interested. He could. He shouldn’t, though, because it’s Adam’s room, and Adam could come back any moment now. 

Then again, he’s always been up for a challenge, and Adam has lube. 

Tommy is considering it when he hears noise from the front of the bus. He quickly puts everything back where it should be, sits on top of his legs, his hands against his thighs, and waits. 

Adam walks in, looking tired and unfocused, and Tommy feels sorry for him immediately. 

“Want me to make you some tea?” Tommy asks before Adam has even registered he’s there. 

Adam stares at Tommy with unseeing eyes for a second, then snaps out of the stupor. “Tommy? Yeah…” Adam takes off his shoes, then looks at Tommy again. “What did you ask?”

“Want some tea, fuzzy-pants?” 

“Yes, please,” Adam moans, and it sounds so dirty. Tired Adam can be a little difficult to handle. 

Tommy gets up, pats Adam’s shoulder as he walks by, and goes to the kitchenette to get Adam’s tea. The poor bastard survives on it alone. 

When he gets back to the room, Adam has shed most of his clothes and is lying face down on the bed. 

Tommy hesitates only for a second, and then sits next to Adam, leaning against the head of the bed. He switches the TV on. 

“They’re like vampires,” Adam mutters into his pillow. 

Tommy holds the tea mug close to Adam’s nose. “Up, up, so you can drink.”

Adam groans, lies there for a moment longer, then levers himself up to sit next to Tommy, taking the mug. “Thanks, munchkin.” 

There are worse things Adam has called him before, but this goes way up to the top five. Tommy would smack the back of Adam’s head if Adam wasn’t drinking. “We need to talk about our Project Stupidheads,” Tommy says while flipping channels. 

“Neil and Ashley?” Adam asks after letting out a long sigh. 

Tommy nods. “We need a plan.”

“Neil won’t get anything subtle. It has to be head-to-brick-wall simple.”

Tommy makes an agreeing sound and steals Adam’s tea mug. He grimaces at the bitter taste. “We could set up a date. Ask them to come bowling with us or something, and then leave them with each other.”

Adam shakes his head. He looks at his mug mournfully, then says, “Neil would think it’s a perfect opportunity to talk Ashley’s ear off, and Ashley would just wallow in despair because of him.”

“True.” Tommy bites his lip. “We could try talking some sense into them.”

“And what would we say? Please to be kissing now, oh stupid ones?”

Tommy snorts and hands the mug back to Adam because Adam is looking at it like Tommy stole his treasure. “I could ask Ashley if she actually likes Neil. And then when she clearly says yes… Well, you could be talking with Neil, and explain how Ashley is one of a kind and won’t be waiting for him forever and deserves to be cherished--”

“Breathe a little,” Adam says, touching Tommy’s side briefly. 

Tommy takes a long breath, staring at Adam. The touch shocked him, and he doesn’t know how Adam did that, how he switched Tommy on with such an insignificant brush of fingers. This is not how they work. 

“Yeah, we can do that,” Adam says softly. “And you can tell Ashley that we’ll get Neil to dig his head out of his ass.”

Tommy nods. He doesn’t have words so he just watches the TV, feeling Adam beside him. It makes him nervous, this whole thing, like he’s been fooled somehow. 

They laugh at the jokes on _Saturday Night Live_ , and Tommy pretends like nothing is out of the ordinary. He’s always been good at hiding.

*

Getting time alone with Neil is far more difficult than Adam could have ever imagined. He’s more than a little frustrated by how little free time he has in between concerts, schmoozing with local radio and media, interviews, soundcheck, meet and greets, fan signings, and on and on and fucking on. 

The occasional raised eyebrow and _What the fuck are you waiting for?_ look from Tommy doesn’t help.

Finally, a week after he first started trying to make time to talk to Neil, when he’s in his hotel room and people have been buzzing in and out for what feels like hours, Adam snaps. 

“Why don’t you just take the entire fucking suitcase? If you’re so sure that I stole _my own_ costume,” he snarls at Maisie, the wardrobe person, who came in looking for his black and silver leather leggings.

Her lips flatten into a straight line, and she looks him up and down, from head to toe. “Well, aren’t you in a mood,” she says. “Keep that up and there ain’t nobody going to be spending their hard-earned money to come see you.”

She grabs the handle of his suitcase and flounces off with it, slamming the door behind her.

Adam gapes at the closed door. “But that’s my stuff,” he whines. 

Ten minutes of pacing and innumerable canceled calls to her cell phone later, when she still hasn’t brought it back and he still hasn’t been able to change into lazing around clothes, Adam says, “Fuck it,” and heads for the door.

He’s just reaching for the handle when he hears the unmistakable sound of someone running a card through the reader. 

He yanks open the door and growls, “What?”

“You’re an asshole,” Neil says, pushing past him, rolling the wheel of Adam’s suitcase right over Adam’s bare foot. 

Letting the door close on its own, Adam hops onto one foot and rubs at his toes. “Ow, fuck. What the hell?”

Neil continues on as if he hasn’t heard Adam. “Not that that’s even remotely surprising to anyone who knows you. But damn it, Adam, do you have to make people cry?”

His foot throbbing and his heart turning into a leaden ball of guilt in his chest, Adam limps after Neil and protests, “I didn’t.”

The suitcase topples over with a thud, and Neil crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at Adam. “So I just imagined Ashley blasting into my room to yell at me about you accusing Maisie of stealing and how I’m supposed to fix it?” 

“I didn’t mean...”

“ _Maisie!_ For fuck’s sake, Adam, what were you thinking? She’s just about the last person on this tour who’d do something like that.”

Adam sinks down on the couch and rests his head against the back. “I know.” It comes out sounding more like a complaint than an admission of guilt.

A loud sigh gusts from Neil, and Adam closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to see the pity or whatever it was that dragged that sound out of him.

A nudge from a sharp elbow has Adam flinching and blinking his eyes out. “What?”

“Here.” Neil passes him a bottle of red wine. “It’s barely drinkable merlot, but it’s the best of what was on offer between the drinks fridge and the gift baskets.”

Sure he’ll regret it when he gets a headache in the morning, Adam tips the bottle up and takes a long drink. The wine is harsh, but not horrible.

Neil grabs the bottle and takes a sip from it. They pass it back and forth a couple of times before Neil says, “You’re not usually this bad until a lot closer to the end of the tour. What’s going on?”

“You the designated Adam handler tonight?”

“It’s a dirty job,” Neil says, opening another bottle of wine, “but someone’s gotta do it. Now spill so everyone doesn’t think I’m a complete failure.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Asshole.” Neil gives him another sharp elbow to the side.

Adam gives him an exaggerated, “Ow,” extending the vowel until it’s almost a howl.

Rolling his eyes, Neil says, “It’s like you’re asking me to beat the shit out of you.”

“As if you could.” Adam sticks his tongue out.

“I’m not five anymore. unlike some brothers I could mention.” 

The cross-eyed, twisted look Neil gives him is so silly that Adam can’t help giggling. “Oh my god,” he says, almost wheezing with laughter. “You better watch that. Someone might think you like me.”

“You wound me unto the death, accusing me of such devilry.” Neil claps a hand to his chest and sprawls back dramatically. The whole effect is ruined when he hits his head on the edge of the side table. “Ow. Motherfucker.” He sits up and rubs the back of his head. “I think I broke it.”

“Hypochondriac,” Adam says, but he finds himself peering at the table and Neil’s fingers, trying to see if there’s any blood. “Come on. Let me look at it.” 

Leaning forward, Neil groans when Adam pushes his hair out of the way and runs his fingers over the bump on Neil’s skull. “Nothing broken, but that’s going to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Just don’t move too much, okay?” 

Getting up, Adam rummages through his carry-on bag and digs out some Advil. He grabs a bottle of water from the stash on the bar and takes them over to Neil. Kneeling down in front of the couch, he hands them over. 

“Do you want some ice for that as well?” 

“Nah.” Neil touches the back of his head gingerly and winces. “Maybe?”

The ice bucket is less than half full but Adam wraps what there is in a towel and hands it over to Neil . “I could go out and get more.” 

“Don’t bother,” Neil says, as he places the makeshift pack against the back of his head. “I’ll be fine. I can always get more on my way back downstairs.” 

It’s an opening of a sort, and before he can stop himself, Adam’s saying, “You could ask Ashley to get you some.”

Neil’s eyes widen, and his mouth opens and shuts, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“What?” Adam can’t help feeling defensive. Maybe it wasn’t the best suggestion in the world, but it wasn’t that bad. “She’s sweet like that.” When Neil still doesn’t respond, he adds, “For everyone. I mean, if I were straight…” He trails off, looking away from Neil’s disbelieving arch of an eyebrow, and tugs at one of his rings. 

For an attempt to get Neil to see Ashley as a potential girlfriend, it was way more lame than Adam would ever admit in a million years, even to Tommy. 

“Ashley? Seriously?”

“Why not? She’s gorgeous and smart and plays badass bass.” Adam twists the ring almost all the way off and shoves it back on again. He’s usually good at giving his friends relationship advice. There’s no way he can tell Tommy he didn’t even try, so he says, “And I think she likes you.”

“Ashley?”

Hope starts to unfurl in Adam’s chest at the thoughtful expression on Neil’s face and the way he’s been reduced to repeating himself. Maybe Adam’s not fucking this up as badly as he thinks he is. “I’d go for her if I were straight,” he says, shaping Ashley’s figure with his hands. “I mean, her tits are amazing.” 

Something softens in Neil’s expression. “Totally amazing.”

“And she’s in the room next to yours, so you better not hesitate to call her if you need anything for your head tonight.”

Neil makes a weird face but he doesn’t argue, which is the equivalent of getting an agreement from him. 

“She’s not going to wait forever,” Adam says, remembering Tommy’s suggestions. “Some guy’s going to come along and steal her out from under your nose if you don’t make a move soon.”

Instead of answering, Neil hands Adam the sopping wet towel that was once filled with ice. He’s clearly done with the Ashley conversation, but Adam knows his little brother, knows that Neil won’t be able to help thinking about her. 

“Ugh.” Adam moves the towel from hand to hand, shivering at every freezing cold drop of water that lands on his jeans and t-shirt, as he tries to figure out what to do with it before finally getting up to toss it in the bar sink. 

When he turns around, Neil’s up on his feet. “You’ll apologize to Maisie tomorrow,” he tells Adam, “and pick her up some flowers or something equally apologetic.” 

“Yes, dear,” Adam says in the monotonous tone that used to drive Neil nuts when they were kids.

His eyebrows drawing together, Neil glares at him and heads for the door. “Do as you’re told for once and don’t make me have to do this again.”

“Talk to Ashley,” Adam says in response.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Adam breathes a sigh of relief and grins at the closed door. He did it. He totally did it. 

He can’t wait to tell Tommy.

*

Tommy finds himself circling Ashley, unable to say anything to her because of nerves, and he’s slowly turning into a stalker. It’s rather pathetic.

When he finally manages to talk to her, it goes haywire because he’s an anxious little bastard with a mountain of issues. Ashley spends most of their talk stroking Tommy’s back and telling him to breathe. 

Like a little talk between friends is something worthy of a panic attack. 

At least he manages to get a confession out of Ashley. She does like Neil, and she really hopes Neil mans up and admits there’s something going on there, has been since the beginning of the tour. 

That’s something worth reporting back to Adam. 

He gets a chance to talk to Adam privately when the bus breaks down in the middle of nowhere and they just haul the lounge chairs out, setting a tiny table nearby them. Tommy takes a few beers with him as well, handing one to Adam. It’s cozy, the weather nice and warm, the crickets chirping in the background. 

Tommy stares at the setting sun, then turns to Adam, smiling. “This is awesome.”

Adam nods, taking a sip from his beer. 

“You know, I talked to Ashley…” Tommy doesn’t want to tell Adam how badly it went, but he wants to share the fact that they were right. “She likes him. She wants Neil to make the first move.”

“I knew it,” Adam says, bringing his bottle close to Tommy’s. They toast, smug grins on their faces. It feels good to be right. 

Tommy lies back in his chair, smiling at the sky, feeling utterly relaxed. Someone else is fixing the bus, and they have nowhere to be right now. Life couldn’t be sweeter. 

Adam brushes Tommy’s bare arm with his knuckles to get Tommy’s attention, and it’s shocking how electrifying it is. Tommy feels more alive after the touch, present in a way he only is on stage. “What?” He turns to look at Adam, his movements sluggish, as though he’s drunk already. 

“Thanks for still doing this with me,” Adam says. He looks weird, somehow transparent and tired, like he’s finally letting go of the mask he’s been wearing for the entire tour. Adam is always working, even when he’s partying, even with friends, even when he’s alone. His mind is always thinking of new solutions, new options, new paths he can take, new people he could and should meet. Right now, Adam is just the man behind the mask, just the private thoughts and a slice of happiness. 

Tommy smiles because it’s nice to know that after all this time they are still in this together. “Thanks for wanting me to be here with you.”

Adam reaches out again, sliding his fingers over Tommy’s arm from elbow to shoulder, Adam’s eyes intense. 

“If you keep doing that I’ll get a boner.” It’s a joke, such a fucking stupid joke, but Adam doesn’t take it as such. He just keeps looking at Tommy, keeps touching, and then slides his hand under Tommy’s shirt, his fingers spanning over Tommy’s stomach. 

It’s not a joke. 

Adam is lying on his side, the beer gone, and he’s so fucking close. “Is your skin heating up? Do you feel me?” Those are just whispers, nothing cocky about them. Adam is curious. 

“Yeah…”

“How does it feel, Tommy Joe?”

Tommy closes his eyes, his hips jerking up, but Adam holds him down. 

“Tell me. How good does it feel?”

He wants to be closer. He wants Adam’s breath against his skin. “Shockingly good,” he whispers, then bites his lip. 

“Why do you always have to be so perfect?” Adam asks, his fingers travelling lower, pushing under Tommy’s jeans, but not touching his hardening cock.

He shakes his head because he’s not perfect. Adam just thinks he is. “This is never going to go anywhere,” Tommy says, breathing in and then exhaling slowly. “You know that.”

“Yet you always react like this. Why?”

There’s a blush creeping up Tommy’s cheeks. Fuck Adam and his magical fingers. “Because you feel good.”

“Because you want me,” Adam whispers in Tommy’s ear, and it startles him, makes him open his eyes. Adam is staring at him with eyes that are nothing but pupil. “Tell me you don’t want me, Tommy.”

“I can’t.” His voice is thick, heavy and layered, and it makes him sound desperate. 

Adam pushes his hand further down, squeezes Tommy over his briefs. “Tell me to stop.” 

He should because it’s not going to be anything but a stupid adventure. They went here once, and they found their way back. He doesn’t want to play with fire. “Don’t… ahhh… stop.”

Adam opens Tommy’s jeans quickly, like he’s afraid he might not get another chance, and wraps his hand around Tommy’s cock, so intense it hurts, makes Tommy’s back arch, makes him whine.

“Shhhh…” Adam kneels next to Tommy’s chair, puts a hand over Tommy’s mouth, and says, “Be quiet, baby.”

He tries, but Adam pulls at his cock, squeezes just right, and it feels too good, too much what he’s wanted for so long. He can’t stay quiet, can’t hold back the moans and the cries, so Adam kisses him through it, covers Tommy’s mouth with his own and holds him there, keeps him grounded through the orgasm. 

Tommy can’t stop shaking, and he grabs Adam’s arm, digs in his nails and holds on, tries to anchor himself. God, this man is so frustrating. 

It’s never going to be a no with Adam. They’re never going to be able to just walk away. Something is simply always going to happen. “Fuck,” Tommy curses when Adam rests his forehead against Tommy’s, his hand still around Tommy’s spent cock. 

“I can do that,” Adam says, grinning.

“You wish. My ass is not your playground.” He wants to bite Adam so he does, catching his chin between his teeth. 

“One day?” Adam kisses the side of Tommy’s mouth. 

Tommy is quiet for a moment, thinking, and since he can’t find any good excuses he says, “If you ask nicely.”

“Really?” Adam sounds hopeful in an other than I’m-getting-laid kind of way. Adam seems to think there’s more behind Tommy’s confession. “You know I could live without it, right? I don’t need to stick my dick in you.”

Tommy laughs, but he doesn’t know what to say. To have an actual relationship with Adam is not only about Tommy needing to redefine his sexuality. It’s also about Adam being really good for him. He’s not used to being happy in his relationships. It would be real, and his ideas of real and forever do not involve Adam fucking Lambert. 

“Think about it, please.” Adam lays beside Tommy, tucks him back into his pants, wipes his own hand clean on the cushions, and wraps his arms around Tommy. Adam is hard against Tommy’s thigh, but at the moment, it doesn’t seem to be an issue. 

Tommy knows this is probably their last chance. Adam won’t wait for him forever, and it’s the first time in a long time that they are not seeing others. 

Adam presses his nose against Tommy’s ear and breathes in. “I’d have you... just the way you are.”

Tommy grins. He knows that. Adam is one of the few people on this planet who can deal with him on a daily basis without losing their mind. “I know.”

Then suddenly, there’s noise at the entrance of the bus, and Tommy turns to see what’s going on. Both Ashley and Neil are peeking out, their smiles reaching their ears. “Fucking finally,” Neil says and then Ashley continues, “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to make you guys see how awesome you are together? How well you balance each other out? How perfect you’ve been together since day one? You’re impossible.” 

“What?” Adam whispers, and Tommy wants to throw something at Ashley and Neil. 

“Please do continue,” Neil says, kissing Ashley’s cheek and then pulling her inside. “We’ll tell everyone not to bother you two.”

When they are gone Adam just stares at Tommy, open-mouthed.

“I know. Seriously.”

“They suck.” Adam is pouting. 

“Big time. They led us on.” Tommy hides his grin behind his hand. He finds the whole situation hilarious, but he’s not surprised that Adam is pouty. 

“Are they together? Have they been together this whole time?” Adam actually growls. 

“Looks like it.” It’s the strangest feeling when your friends plan an intervention. Tommy has never had anyone try to fix him up with anyone. The fact that they think Adam is the one for him both weirds him out and makes him feel like yeah, he should’ve known. 

Tommy sits up, and Adam lets him. Adam is still upset, looking like Neil stole his best toy. Adam is outsmarted, and it doesn’t sit well with him. 

Tommy tilts his head, looking down at Adam. “It’s not the sex,” he says quietly. “It’s everything else. You’ve always been too good. I don’t know how to be happy, and I don’t want to drag you down.” He pauses, touching Adam’s cheek. “You make me vulnerable, and I don’t like that. I know how to deal with shit, how to get by, how to struggle. You…” he pokes at Adam’s chest, “you make me feel good about myself.” It’s an accusation. He can’t help it. “My forever after didn’t have gay marriage at the end.”

“It’s just marriage,” Adam says, dumbfounded. 

“You know what I mean. It wasn’t a prince at the end of my fairy-tale. It wasn’t. I don’t know how to…” Tommy takes Adam’s hand, holds it between his own. “Maybe I’ve been so fucking unhappy with all those people because they weren’t you.”

Adam just stares at him, stares and stares, looking shocked. 

“I want to… test that dildo you have in your bedroom. I want to try to suck you off. I want to do all that. But most of all… most of all, I want you to be happy with me. I don’t want to be a bad choice.”

Adam sits up, too, then pulls Tommy into a hug. “Oh my god, stop talking. You’re not… You could never be a bad choice.”

“I’m barely gay on the Kinsey scale. I’m a horrible choice.”

“Like I care. You want me. That’s enough.” Adam rubs his face against Tommy’s hair. “You like me.”

“Yeah…”

“So do you want to try the dildo on me or you?”

Tommy laughs. He can’t stop, can’t hide from the adrenaline rush. He’s so fucking scared of this life. “Both.”

“Me first then?” 

“Yeah… please.”

Adam holds him tighter; Tommy just holds on.


End file.
